Wierd occassion
by MetaLucario
Summary: With the winter war won, and the quincy on the rise, its up to Ichigo to discover the true nature of the one known as none other but his inner hollow as he fights with himself over his three inner natures. But will he be able to choose between shinigami and quincy with Ulquiorra suddenly inside his inner world?


A/N: Wow, this has to be the strangest inspiration I've ever had! I'm absolutely confused with myself.

A random monochrome blue door that more than resembled the other thousand in the immediate vicinity bashed open with a deafening clang of metal on metal, and a spiky orange blur dashed straight through the scene of the devastated room. He hurriedly locked the massive door, and hid in the corner. Kurosaki Ichigo, the powerful hybrid almost-slayer of Aizen, was trembling like a leaf during a hurricane. Tanned hands covered shaking brown eyes, black clad knees rocking back and forth.

The lock slowly came undone, thin, bone-like white fingers curled around the door, harsh obsidian nails the perfect contrast.

No! He found me already! Ichigo began to panic, only to blanch in shock as piercing dark green eyes gazed in at him.

"Ulquiorra?" He visibly relaxed. "He didn't find me. I'm still safe."

"I'm afraid I do not understand your statement, Kurosaki; Who are you running from? There should not be anyone else in your inner mindscape."

"Ano… Then how the hell are you in here?' Ichigo questioned, his face scrunched in confusion, slender finger pointed at the cuatro espada. Ulquiorra looked as though he wanted to roll his eyes in exasperation, but his face remained devoid of any and all emotion, as per usual.

"Of course I shouldn't have expected mindless trash like you to figure that out…" came a dead, monotonous reply.

'"Hey! What's that supposed to mean!?" His fear was all but forgotten, in light of the recent blow to his lacking intelligence. Ulquiorra just stared at him blankly.

"What form did you acquire to defeat me with?" He started simple.

"A hollow." Came Ichigo's clueless response.

"Correct. What do hollow's do when they fight each other?" The orange shinigami paused, then flinched back in realization.

"That's not possible." Ichigo blanched as he said this. Then a thought crossed his mind. "Wait does that mean Grimmjow-"

"No, he some how survived, and it was Nnoitora who stabbed him anyway." Ulquiorra sounded disgusted as he said this.

"Tha's likely 'cause I wasn' aloud ta interfere in tha' battle. If I 'ad, he'd be torn ta shreds within tha firs' four seconds of tha figh'." Vermillion spikes, and russelled ebony locks whipped around to face the new voice. Ichigo crawled back to the corner, wide eyed and panicking.

"Sh-shiro!" He stuttered. Ulquiorra was shocked enough for his inpassionate mask to disappear, and his intense forest orbs widened ever so slightly in his surprise. Kurosaki was afraid? He never would have believed it possible.

"Yo." Pale lips twisted cruelly into a large grin. "Ya c'n really be difficul' ta follow aroun', king. Yer either really desperate, er really scared ta be runnin' from me. An' yer talkin' ta this emo bat… Che', even I expec'ed better from ya." He took a step toward the shivering vizard with each word, eventually stopping right in front of the teen. "Hey, king, look how much closer I jus' got ta ya." His smirk widened mockingly. Ichigo shivered, knowing what the hollow was laughing about.

"Shut up." Ichigo turned his scowling face to the side.

"Make me, king." Came the overly cocky reply. Ichigo's scowl deepened as Shiro's insanely wide smirk increased in size. A white hand reached down toward the boy's peachy colored one, black nails sliding down a rough calloused palm.

"Go away, I don't want your help."

"No, 'course ya don' wan' it. Ya absolutely need it, ya'd be dead several times over withou' it. An' then where'd we be?" He grasped his counterpart's hand tighter as though to reaffirm his point with a mere touch. He pulled the young substitute shinigami to his feet, and raised his other hand to cup the scowling face of his kinder other half. "C'mon, aibou, make the rain stop ou' there. It's annoyin'." He turned to the impassive espada. "What tha hell're ya still doin' here bat-boy?" He let out a mirthful cackle.

"Standing." Was the only answer. "But what are you? you look exactly like Kurosaki, yet your reiatsu is clearly that of a hollow, I do not comprehend this, it should not be possible."

"Wha' I am is of no real importance, an' I honestly don' give a shit bout yer curiosity. Maybe I'll tell ya one day, but no' before I tell kingy here."

"Why do you call him king? Is it somehow significant to you?"

"I call him wha'ever tha hell I wan' ta call him. Don' get tha wrong idea though, cause I migh' get jealous if anyone else were ta call him tha'; I got dibs, so don' ya even dare think bout it."

"Why would I bother to give a title of honor to trash?" Ulquiorra said as he turned around to leave. He let out a gasp of shock as he was severed directly into separate halves. His blood coated the doorframe, and little droplets of crimson spleashed to the floor. He formed back rather quickly, but then was ripped apart. The fact that he was already dead twice did nothing to alleviate the agony of feeling his body rip apart into little shreds.

"Shiro?" Ichigo was slowly backing away from his psychotic partner, panting heavily from fear.

"Jus'a minute, king. He ain't gettin' off easy fer callin' ya trash. Only I'm allowed ta mock ya, cause I only do it when ya need it. He's jus' too condescendin'. I don' like it, pissses me off." His voice steadily declined, his unkempt fury fell into an eery quiet that spoke louder than the former rage. No one messed with his king. Ever.

"Seems like this side of you is as overbearingly protective as your self; I believe that he may even be worse. He's willing to kill over an insult, when you were scared to injure me for holding your friend hostage. On that note, please tell Orihime that I hope she's faring better now." Ulquiorra (apparently recovered) pronounced slowly as though he thought Ichigo might not understand.

"She's been doing well, actually. Her powers have developed a lot, and she's actually been happy recently. Might be because she's dating Uryuu." Ichigo looked away at the last part, His expression dejected. All of his friends had begun pairing off. Only Ichigo was left out in the cold; he wished he had someone, if just so he no longer felt left out. The others hadn't been hanging around him as much, except for Shinji. The blonde vizard kept him well informed on what was going on in Seireitei, especially now that he was restored to his post as fifth squad captain.

"Awwww kingy's sad cause tha little princess lef' him fer emo-bat-boy an' then fer stick-up-his-ass-glasses geek? At leas' ya didn' fall fer ugly-ass-flat-chested-snow-bitch. I would a killed ya fer tha'. I'd say Rukia could go rot in hell, bu' I recall tha' she already did. Ya shoulda lef'her there. She's a royal bitch." He examined his nails calmly, glaring at the grime on his nails as though the aforementioned source of his hatred was the cause of the muck, and not left over blood from mauling Ulquiorra. "Face it, I'm tha only one lef' ta care fer yer sorry ass. Its inevitable kingy, we're gonna fall in love~" He stalked closer to the mentally disturbed teen, and began talking in a singsong voice. "An' then ya will jus'let me be king, wontcha? If I did this-" he wrapped his cold fingers tenderly around Ichigo's thin face. "Or this,"he tightened his grip to a steely vice and threw the shocked shinigami roughly to the wall. "Or maybe," he leaned over the startled orange head, pushing the boy back against the wall a little roughly with his chest, as he positioned his face so that his warm breath ghosted across the others face. A dark ocean blue tounge slipped out, slithering along sun kissed skin with seductive ease. Ichigo froze in confusion and shock. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew he didn't want it, despite this weirdly pleasant warmth in his chest and stomach. he squirmed and flailed trying to escape the deceptively alluring touch. "It'll give aibou a whole new meanin', eh partner? An' maybe give ya more motivation ta figh' if ya have a wider range of rewards... an' punishmen's..." He grabbed the boy's face again, watching brown eyes dull and glaze over before slowly fading to accommodate the hints of cruel amber bleeding through his iris. White lips widened in a smirk. "Maybe ya'd even kill yer little friends jus' ta earn a little-" he paused to lick a beige ear shell with an icy blue tongue, "pleasure from it." Even he wasn't certain if that was hinting at his partner enjoying the feeling of cold blooded murder, or making a really obvious innuendo. Either way, Ichigo increased his attempts to push the demented hollow off, only serving to piss the white being off. He made up his mind right there. Pulling the other closer by his bright vermillion hair, he locked his freezing ivory digits around the sea of tangerine and claimed warm lips with his own glacial ones, biting and sucking as he went along. Soon enough, the pressure and heat tricked the fiery shinigami to comply. Their tongues met. Soft magenta meshed with harsh frozen azure, and suddenly the azure pulled away. "Tell me ya love me Ichi. Tha' ya belong ta me an' only me an' yer heart only has room for one bein'." Ichigo's warm mocha eyes opened, and then closed again slowly.

"I can't say that Shiro." He said, and the hollow responded by leaning over him again, and nibbling at his ear.

"Tha's a lie aibou, ya can." He wrapped his arms around broad shihakusho-clad shoulders, "an' I know at least one par' is true," cold hands trailed gently down a warm face, "ya do love me, doncha?" Ichigo froze, uncertain. Until those arctic lips brushed his again.

"Yes." Ichigo looked away ashamed as fingers colder than the polar ice caps stroked his cheeks almost lovingly.

"Good, kingy. Look I c'n train ya like a pet!"


End file.
